


Wedding Blues

by kesdax



Series: first meetings au [1]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-29
Updated: 2014-08-29
Packaged: 2018-02-15 06:48:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2219685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kesdax/pseuds/kesdax
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was written for a tumblr meme. Prompt was ‘two miserable people meeting at a wedding au.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wedding Blues

**Author's Note:**

> This was a lot longer than I ever intended. I'm posting it on here mostly for archiving purposes because Tumblr is a pain in the ass for tracking tags etc. So sorry if you've already read this on there.

"Scotch, rocks," said Shaw. "Make it a double."

The bartender glanced at her sideways, but poured her drink anyway despite the fact that she was pretty sure she had cut in front of about five people, one of which she vaguely recognised as the bride's father, and only because she had imagined ten unique ways of murdering him during his hour long speech, the majority of which he had spent in tears, blubbering his way through it so badly that he couldn't get the words out.

"Thank god it's an open bar," someone muttered in her ear.

Shaw glanced over her shoulder, finding a tall brunette wearing a dazzling blue dress, staring at the wedding party with a look of disdain on her face.

"What?" Shaw snapped, startled at someone having the audacity to speak to her when she had been doing a remarkable job all night of avoiding small talk with anyone that so much as looked at her.

"I said thank god it's an open bar," the woman repeated. "I'd hate to be at this thing sober."

Shaw grunted in agreement and turned to leave before the woman could try to talk to her further. But the bridesmaids chose that moment to swarm the bar and Shaw found herself pressed up against the woman who had been the first person to successfully engage her in conversation all night.

Shaw gritted her teeth more out of annoyance than embarrassment as she found her hand brushing accidentally against the woman's breast as she was buffeted by the maid of honour in her hurry to snatch a glass of champagne from the barman. But the woman didn't seem to mind getting felt up. In fact she smiled wickedly down at Shaw, her eyes roaming over Shaw's well exposed cleavage. Shaw inwardly smiled at that. She _had_ chosen this dress for a reason after all. Well, that was before she had quickly realised that nobody at this ridiculous wedding was anywhere near her standards. Although she was starting to reassess that statement as the woman continued to undress Shaw with her eyes.

There was a loud cheer from behind them and Shaw turned on instinct, scrunching her nose up in disgust as the best man started on a break dance routine in the middle of the dance floor. When she turned back around, the woman in the blue dress had stepped right into her personal space.

"Wanna get out of here?" she asked, pulling a bottle of unopened champagne from behind her back.

Shaw raised an eyebrow, wondered how she had managed to acquire the bottle so easily and decided not to ask. Instead she shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly and took a large swallow of her scotch.

"Where did you have in mind?" Shaw asked.

The woman smirked, pulling a key card from her bra and Shaw found her eyes lingering before she snatched them back up. "Well," she said, stretching the word out and turning up her grin, "I _do_ have a room."

Shaw's eyebrow shot up again and she swallowed thickly, feeling more than a little intrigued. She nodded slightly, downing her drink and dumping the glass on a nearby table before following the other woman out of the hotel's ballroom. She doubted anyone would notice their absence, and no one saw them slip out, all eyes still on the best man as he tried to coerce the bride into joining him on the dance floor.

They rode the elevator up in silence and it wasn't uncomfortable, even with the way the other woman's eyes kept boring into her.

"I'm Root, by the way," said the woman as the elevator doors slid open. Shaw wondered absently if it was short for something, but she didn't care enough to ask.

The woman - Root - glanced at her expectantly over her shoulder as Shaw followed her dutifully down the corridor. She knew this was the part where she was supposed to give her name, but as always when she was dealing with someone she had just met and hadn't vetted, Shaw was reluctant and she muttered out a clipped Sam, not missing the way Root's lips quirked up in a triumphant smirk as she turned back around. Shaw felt vaguely like she had just lost a game she hadn't even known she was playing and she was starting to get cold feet about the whole thing, itching to turn on her heel and make a run for it. But then Root stopped outside one of the rooms and used her key card to open it, holding the door open for Shaw to enter first. Shaw looked at her for a moment, decided what the hell, and snatched the bottle of champagne from Root's hand before entering the room. Shaw had the foil wrap off and was untwisting the metal loop before Root was even in the room. She kept her eyes on Root as she popped the cork, wary of being trapped alone in a room she hadn’t cleared first with a woman she didn’t know. She did wonder vaguely if she was being paranoid, and a voice in her head sounding suspiciously like Cole’s told her to get over herself.

The cork came off with a loud pop, champagne fizzing up violently, bubbling over her hand and onto the floor. Shaw muttered a few curses under her breath and turned her head up sharply to glare when she heard Root chuckling from across the room. Root pushed herself slowly off the door then, her eyes locking onto Shaw’s. Neither of them seemed really bothered by the alcohol dripping onto the floor and staining the carpet.

Shaw’s breath hitched as Root once again stepped right into her personal space and she had to resist the urge to take a step back and claim some distance. But Shaw didn’t move. Instead she watched as Root ducked her head and licked the still overflowing champagne, her tongue darting dangerously close to Shaw’s hand as she glanced up at Shaw through her eyelashes. The fizzing stopped and Root straightened with a smirk and it only widened when Shaw took a deep drink straight from the bottle. Shaw didn’t say anything, just stared coldly at Root until eventually the smirk slipped from her face. Root sat down heavily on the edge of the double bed and took her shoes off with a sigh.

“I hate weddings,” Root said absently. “Why would anyone want to commit to spending their life with another human being?”

Shaw shrugged in agreement. “Then why did you come?” she asked before she could stop herself. She took another swig of the champagne to cover up the fact that she was annoyed at herself. Because asking questions made it seemed like she was more interested than she actually was. And Shaw had made that mistake in the past. So now whenever she did this, whenever she was just looking for a night of fun or three, she always made sure to make her intentions clear. And her gruff, sullen exterior usually sent the point home. But with the woman sitting in front of her, Shaw’s usual tactics didn’t seem to be working. Root didn’t seem at all fazed by Shaw’s irritability and it made Shaw wonder once again just what game they were actually playing.

“I’m here on a job,” Root explained, rubbing the base of her feet as if she weren’t used to wearing heels.

Shaw groaned inwardly. “Please don’t tell me you’re the wedding planner.”

Root smiled distantly, different from the usual smirk she had been sporting all night, and Shaw found she couldn’t interpret it all that well. “No,” she said vaguely and didn’t elaborate. Shaw didn’t probe her further, because asking questions made it seem like she cared when she didn’t.

“Why are _you_ here if you hate weddings so much?” Root asked, shifting slightly so that she could sit on the bed and rest her back against the headrest.

Shaw shrugged. “To be honest, I’m only here for the food.”

It was one of the first things Cole had bribed her with when he had thrust the wedding invitation in her face. That and the open bar had sealed the deal, although she had been regretting the decision ever since. She would have outright refused all together but she doubted she would have heard the end of it if she had. Besides, she was the only person from the ISA that Cole had invited (although she was more than a little relieved he hadn’t invited Wilson, that would have just made the evening all the more unbearable) and all his other guests appeared to be his idiotic friends from college and his ridiculously large extended family.

Shaw drank more of the champagne. It wasn’t her usual favoured choice of drink, but it was good stuff and the bubbles left a nice tingling feeling as the liquid trickled down her throat. Shaw glanced up to find Root staring at her and she wondered if she was expected to say anything. But Shaw wasn’t so good with words so instead she dumped the half empty bottle of champagne on the dressing table and moved to sit on the edge of the bed.

Neither of them said anything for a while, the silence building between them. Shaw cleared her throat awkwardly. Usually she was a lot less sober for this sort of stuff.

“I’m not so good at this,” Shaw said eventually when she couldn’t take the silence anymore and she could practically feel the smirk coming from the other woman.

“You know it’s not exactly a turn on when a girl says that, right?” she said gleefully.

Shaw rolled her eyes. “Shut up,” she mumbled grumpily and flinched slightly when Root moved to sit nearer to her, so close that her body was pressed up against Shaw’s. Shaw closed her eyes when Root pressed their lips together and let out a sharp hiss of breath when she dug her fingernails into Shaw’s side. It just seemed to spur Root on, her teeth biting down hard on Shaw’s bottom lip before moving to attack her neck.

Shaw clearly hadn’t been wrong about her first instincts of Root having similar tastes to her and she roughly pushed Root backwards onto the bed. Root might have been playing some game with her from the start that Shaw didn’t know the rules to, but Shaw wasn’t about to let her win at this, and she made her intentions _very_ clear as she ripped the dress from Root’s skin, not caring if she tore it and relished in the moan that escaped from the other woman’s mouth. Root attacked her lips again, as if annoyed with herself at having made the sound and Shaw found herself smirking, wondering what other noises she could get Root to make, how loud she could make Root scream.

It didn't take her long to find out. Root's skin seemed to be sensitive to every one of Shaw's touches, and she hissed and groaned, even whimpered when Shaw teased her with her tongue. And when she was coming, Root muttered incoherent words under her breath, like she was telling a story or saying a prayer that was just meant for Shaw’s ears.

Afterwards, when they were both satiated, bite marks and scratches raw and ragged on their skin, bruises forming on both their bodies, Root climbed out of the bed and headed towards the mini bar.

“Would you like a drink?” she asked.

“As long as it’s not got bubbles,” Shaw said, wishing they had acquired something stronger from the open bar downstairs.

“I think I can manage that,” said Root with a smirk. Shaw watched her for a moment, enjoying the view of soft curves and pale, smooth skin. But then she leaned back, putting one hand behind her head, entirely too comfortable for her own good. This was the part when she would usually leave, but she found herself not minding the thought of a second round and wondered just how similar their tastes really were, if she dared to push hard enough to find out.

Shaw felt the bed dip and peeked one eye open to find Root sitting next to her, holding out a glass half filled with a clear liquid.

“I’m assuming you take your vodka straight,” Root said as Shaw took the class from her. She sat up straighter and downed it in one go, enjoying the feel of it as it burned its way down her throat.

Root smirked at her when Shaw handed her the empty glass. Shaw lay back down heavily, feeling tired all of a sudden and she wondered if it was a combination of the alcohol and the first night of satisfying sex she had had in months or something else. But she didn’t have time to think about it too much as Root straddled her waist, trailing her tongue up Shaw’s neck before she began nibbling on her earlobe.

“Don’t fight it,” Root murmured as Shaw struggled to keep her eyes open and she realised then that this was more than vodka and sex, that something was wrong.

“What?” Shaw mumbled, her voice slurred and not sounding at all like her own. Her eyes felt heavy and they landed on the now empty glass on the bedside table as her head lolled to the side. She knew then that there hadn’t just been vodka in that glass. And she wanted to curse and yell and fight, but all she could do was stare at Root with accusing eyes and she couldn’t even do that for very long as her eyes slid shut and she lost consciousness.

*

When Shaw awoke, several hours later to the sun peering through the curtains, her head was pounding incessantly and her mouth felt so dry that she could barely get her tongue to move. It took her a while to realise what had woken her, but she eventually grasped that the pounding in her head was in time with the shrill ringing of the hotel room phone.

Shaw leaned over and answered it. She didn’t say anything, knowing instinctively who was calling.

“Sorry about that,” said Root, her voice sounding tinny and distant over the line and Shaw couldn’t tell if the apology was genuine or not.

“Which part?” Shaw croaked out. “The drugging or the subpar fucking that came before it?”

She couldn’t resist the dig but she doubted it had the desired effect and she could practically hear the smirk coming through the phone, could picture it on that face that she had only seen for the first time a few short hours ago, but which Shaw was sure she wasn’t about to forget anytime soon.

“Come now,” said Root as if she were scolding a small child for doing something they shouldn’t, “we both know you had fun, _Agent Shaw._ ”

Shaw flinched at that, her eyes quickly darting about the room, searching for the purse that she had dumped absently on the floor last night. She found it lying open and empty on the dressing table. Shaw swore and knew that Root was using her cell right now. The cell phone that she used for work, the phone that could tie her back to the ISA and Control.

“Who are you?” Shaw asked.

“That’s not important,” said Root and Shaw realised then that _she_ was the job that Root was working last night. She felt something swirl in the pit of her stomach then and it wasn’t nausea due to her hangover. “All that you need to know,” said Root in a tone of voice that sounded something akin to sadness, “is that it was nothing personal.”

Shaw snorted at that and began pulling her dress back on. She had no idea what time it was and had no intention of still being in this room when the maid stopped by.

“You won’t find anything on that phone,” Shaw said, but she doubted it even as she said it. She had been compromised, big time, and she was more than a little surprised that Wilson or Hersh or someone hadn’t shown up yet. Because Shaw knew all too well what happened to agents who fucked up.

“We’ll see about that,” said Root and hung up.

Shaw stared at the phone for a moment, clenching her teeth before slamming it back down, then she grabbed her purse and shoes and hurriedly left. The hallway was blessedly empty and Shaw made it to the elevator without bumping into anyone. She was just finishing pulling her shoes back on when the doors dinged open and she was met with the sight of Michael Cole, a small suitcase at his feet. He grinned widely when he saw her.

“Are you doing the walk of shame?” he asked and she could hear the delight in his voice.

“Shut up,” she snapped, getting into the elevator and attempting to glare at him, but she found that her body just couldn’t muster the energy for it.

“Aren’t you glad you came to my wedding now?” Cole said and Shaw was pretty sure the grin had gotten bigger.

“Shut up,” she said again. “We may have a problem.”

The grin quickly slid off Cole’s face. “Uh-uh,” he said quickly, “my honeymoon officially started three minutes ago. There’s no such thing as problems. Besides, aren’t you just being your usually paranoid self?”

Shaw rolled her eyes.

“It was just a one night stand,” Cole said, but she could see the worry start to creep onto his face.

“She took my phone,” said Shaw, glancing away from him to stare at the panel that showed the numbers decreasing as the elevator continued its descent.

“So?” said Cole.

“My _work_ phone,” Shaw added.

“You brought your work phone to my _wedding_?” asked Cole incredulously.

Shaw shrugged. “I thought we might get a number.”

Cole shook his head in disbelief. “Did you bring your gun too?” he asked jokingly and looked at her sharply when Shaw didn’t say anything and shuffled her feet sheepishly. “You did, didn’t you? Who were you planning on shooting? One of the bridesmaids?”

“The father of the bride comes to mind, actually,” she muttered under her breath. Cole opened his mouth to say something but the elevator stopped to let someone else on and he quickly snapped it shut again. Shaw was relieved at the interruption, even if it was only delaying the inevitable whining. But Cole got quickly distracted by his new bride when the elevator reached the lobby and she managed to sneak out before he could stop her.

Weeks later, when no one from the ISA tried to kill her and no one mentioned the stolen phone, Shaw started to wonder if it was because Root hadn’t used the information she had taken from it yet or if whatever she had done, she had kept Shaw’s fuck up out of it.

Either way, Shaw vowed that if she ever saw Root again, there was a bullet in her ammo supply marked just for her.


End file.
